


The Better End of Bittersweet

by HidingInAPillowFort



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cuban Lance (Voltron), First Kisses, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Keith is bilingual, Lance only speaks Spanish, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Snorkeling, Swimming, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bed sharing, feeling, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15339534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HidingInAPillowFort/pseuds/HidingInAPillowFort
Summary: sometimes Love doesn’t need to be in the same language. Sometimes you don't have to say “I love you”. Sometimes love says it for itself++Keith is a Sea glass collector who falls in love with a handsome Cuban jewelry maker.





	The Better End of Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> "english is normal text" "Spanish is in italics and bod"
> 
> (side note, a lot of this fic was inspired by my Bestie Sia, who’s first language is German and second is English, she didn’t learn english for me or anything, but she actually inspired a lot of the fic, So it’s kinda… Dedicated? It her??! IDK)

 

~~~< Varadero Beach >~~~

 

Keith’s hands glide across the sand, the current pulling strands of it up in small whirlpools. A school of fish surrounds him. In movies there is always an unrealistic amount of fish when snorkelers go swimming, but _here_ , that fantasy is real. Schools of fish, sizing up to be much bigger than Keith, glide around him, forming abstract shapes anyone would call art. He feels at home here, surrounded by colorful coral and fish.

 

A steady stream of bubbles floats over Keith’s face, the way his cheeks are puffed out reminds him of the way his mother used to pretend to be a fish. He hands cupped his face, acting as gills. It’s a fond memory. The sea has a way of bringing back his past. He had a decent childhood, despite some negative points, he would say he has a good life.

 

He hadn’t bought a snorkel to the beach this time, only goggles. He prefers it this way. Nothing keeping him from feeling out of place among the sea life.

 

His hands dig into the sand, searching for the familiar feeling of smooth glass on his fingers. He usually comes back to the surface empty handed, which is fine. As Long as he, in the end when he returns to shore, has at least one piece of seaglass. He doesn’t make much from this profession, but he doesn’t mind it. He rather have little money doing what he loves, than make lots of money and never doing what he loves.

 

His hands run over a starfish, he flips it over to stare at the strange opening on it, he admires the small spots that open and close at his touch. Of the all the types of sea life, starfish are his favorite. After storms and many starfish get washed ashore it’s like a whole new night sky. Bitter sweetness at it’s best.

 

He opens his pouch that hangs from his waist. The thick red leather is always harder to open under water, which in a way makes it’s easier to keep the sea glass from falling it. Keith stares at the off white gem before pushing off the seafloor, shooting back to the surface. He can hold his breath for a decent amount of time, something that comes with practice.

 

He has a little more than his bag full, maybe 20 pieces. It’s the most he’s ever gotten. But his excitement takes control of him. He swims back to his little canoe. The canoe was built by his dad, a couple month before Keith was born. It can seat two people comfortably, but Keith prefers when it’s just him, well…

 

He unties the pouch, placing it on the floor. He shakes the water out of hair; his chest is still wet but he puts his blue striped shirt on. He had paddled quite far from shore, he prefers not to be bothered by tourist, “ _ohmygod! Do you do this for a living?!?_ ” or “ _you’re a local? But you’re not cuban?!?”_ after being asked exactly how to find the best seaglass, Keith started to paddles out further, avoiding the crowds.

 

The “sail” back doesn’t take to long, on good days he lets the waves do most the work; he’s lie back and relax, hands dangling over the side, feeling the waves. But the beating of his heart and the redness of his cheeks keeps him from waiting.

 

~~~< Sanchez-Mcclain Jewelry Shoppe >~~~

 

Lance twists then cuts the wire, finishing the “jem” for a necklace. It’s a creamy green piece of Sea glass, probably was from a beer bottle.  It’s makes for a nice necklace though. He sighs, relaxing into the cushion of his seat, rolling back. He eyes the sea glass box, it’s a wooden, hand crafted box, filled with tinted jars. Each jar is filled with different colored pieces of glass, he had spend hours with Keith organising it.

 

He wanted to be able to find the time to use most the glass, but the day only had so many hours. His favorite of the glass Keith brings him are in a special jar at his house, he hasn’t told Keith this of course. It’s a bit embarrassing to him.

 

Lance slides out of his seat, stretching out his back, he hasn’t stood since the morning, so the satisfying crack is practically music to his ears. He looks over to the clock, “mierda!” it’s half past noon already. His shop should have opened a half hour ago.

 

Sanches-Mcclain Jewelry Shoppe is a fairly popular shop, he sells cheaper, more local jewelry than the on-brand stores, besides, most of those shops are owned by the government.

 

Lance flips the open-closed sign to the correct side, opening the door. He’s always struggled to keep the door stopper in place, but after a few failed attempt he walks back into the store, readjusting the setups. He usually can sell quite a few necklaces and bracelets everyday. Most the tourists like the “local distressed” look. Whatever that meant.

 

Senior Diaz comes in around 1 o’clock, his usual time. “ ** _Hello_** _"._ Lance says, pulling out the 'reject' box. He comes everyday to see if Lance has any rejected sea glass he could use.

 

“ _ **do you have any in yellow?** " _ He asks, Lance shakes his head. “ _ **Have a good day then** ". _

 

Lance places the box back under the table. It’s usually slow on Sundays, the only exciting times are when Keith comes in. Always riding up on his pale blue bike, his basket filled with bright flowers, his leather bag bouncing on his hip. His smile. The way he looks at Lance. The shy way he gives him the glass. The… -literally everything!

 

Lance’s face flushes.

 

~~~< Sanchez-Mcclain Jewelry Shoppe >~~~

 

Keith pedals lightly, he likes biking without doing to much work. A couple of people quickly take pictures of him. He has the _aesthetic™._ Lance’s shop is a short bike ride from the beach, it’s actually right by it, but the best sea glass is a mile down the boardwalk. He weaves between people, apologising in spanish, a couple time.

 

He passes a popsicle shop. He’s never actually been inside before, he desperately wants to. He quickly wonders if Lance like popsicles.

 

Lance~

 

Keith blushes. He likes lance, a lot. Always has. Probably always will.

 

He had walked into his shop one day (about two years ago), a giant bag of sea glass in one hand. He was soaking wet, having just come from the beach.

 

“Do you buy? Or only sell?” he had asked. Lance stared at him, a little confused.

 

“ _ **spanish, possibly?** " _Lance had asked.

 

“Oh! Uhhh… no? Sorry. Give me a minute.” Keith had ended up pulling out his phone to use google translate. His pronunciation so bad he had to hand his phone to Lance so he could read it.

 

Lance paid for the glass and Keith left. But he kept coming back, sometime with glass, other times not. He just wanted to see Lance. It was like an addiction. He thought about him constantly, his head gets dizzy, his hands shake. At first he thought it was a sickness.

 

He slows down, hoping of his bike, he pulls the flowers out of the basket, waling into Lances shop. It’s cooler inside, even though Lance rarely uses the in building AC. Succulents and small plants dangle from planters. Keith had helped put some of them up. A small fan in the corner runs on high, blowing at the back of Lance’s head, his hair flying everywhere. He’s looking down, probably at a book. His brows are furrowed, his bottom lips stuck between his teeth.

 

He’s beautiful, fitting in perfectly with the wind chiles and dozens of flower vases. He’s sitting behind the counter, his legs crossed underneath him, book in his lap. The stool is tall, holding him higher in the shop, as though he is on display. His cheeks at rosy; he’s wearing a button down with blue stripes, the top two buttons undone.

  


Yeah, at first he thought it was a sickness.

 

Now he knows it’s call love. And boy does he hope there’s no cure.

 

Lance looks up from his book, eyes lighting up at the sight of Keith. “Keith!!” He says jumping up from his stool, book falling to the floor. He grins like and idiot, but so is Keith. He snorts, bringing his hand to his mouth. “ _ **come here.** " _ Lance waves his hands over, motioning for Keith to come closer. Keith does and Lance immediately reaches forward and treads his hands through Keith’s hair, sand falling out. “ _ **you look very adorable like this.** " _ He shakes his hands, sand flies everywhere.

 

Keith blushes, his hands cover is face as Lance shakes his hair around. “Stop that, _para_!” Keith pushes him away before he explodes.

 

“Okay okay, what you got?” lance asks, struggling with his English.

 

A little after Keith met Lance, ever after living in Cuba for years, Keith decided he _needed_ to learn Spanish. And then, after failing to speak to Lance in his first language, he actually paid for lessons. Lance had picked up a little English too.

 

“ _ **I didn’t get much. I couldn’t wait.** " _His Spanish has gotten better.

 

“You flatter,” lance laughs, he then repeats himself in spanish. “Tu adula.”

 

“Uh.. yeah?” Keith Hands over the leather pouch and flowers. “ _ **I guess you have a lot more than I thought.** "_

 

“ _ **flowers or sea glass?** " _ Lance smile. “ _ **Because I can never have enough of your affection.** "_

 

They’re always like this. Flirty. Keith always wants to ask Lance out. Take him on date. Buy him gifts (the flowers are mostly wild). Shower him with the love he deserves. He just… hasn’t yet.

 

Keith smiles, blushing furiously. This boy just has an affect on him.

 

~~~< Sanchez-Mcclain Jewelry Shoppe >~~~

 

One of the first things Lance learned about Keith was, he doesn’t talk much. He really doesn’t. At first Lance just thought it was because the language barrier, which stops plenty of people from talking with Lance. But Keith is different. It’s almost like he communicates through something else. Through his eyes. Or the way he moves his hands. Through the ways he nods and listens.

 

When they first met, and actually started hanging out at Lance’s shop to pass time, Lance used to talk for _hours_. Lance knew that Keith didn’t understand most of it, if any. But Lance just found himself talking about anything and everything. Keith just sat there, smiling and nodding, handing different colored sea glass when Lance needed them.

 

“ _ **read to me?** " _ Lance asks, handing his book to Keith, who’s sitting on top of the counter, writing words in Lance’s palm. Keith nods, taking the book from him. Lance had been practicing his english by reading books that Keith had recommended to him. Keith probably doesn’t even know how much Lance has been practicing, he’s not great, but getting better.

 

“ _ **where were you?** " _Keith opens to the book marked page.

 

“‘ _Even, Vera, my old Nanny’_ ,” Lance says, pointing to the line.

 

“Okay,” Keith says, quieter, as though his reading voice it different from his own voice. He starts reading from where Lance pointed to, using funny voices where they talk. Lance lies his head down, using his forearm as a headrest, his hand blindly searches for Keith’s. He holds on tightly. Like he’s going to lose him.

 

Lance falls asleep in the middle of the day, listening to Keith talk.

 

~~~< A Popsicle Shop Down The Road>~~~

 

“ _ **what do you want?** " _ Lance looks up at the sign, he gabs Keith’s hand, pointing at one flavor. “ _ **that one looks yummy!** "_

 

Keith nods. “ _ **melt**?" _ It was a chocolate, _dulce de leche_ , something that would melt quickly in the heat.

 

“ _ **they’re popsicles, they do that**." _ Lance snorts, squeezing Keith’s hand.

 

“Right, sí,” Keith turns to the man behind the counter, who looks like he rather be anywhere but there. “ One dulce de leche and one of your dairy free fruit pops, Por favor.”

 

“Coming right up,” the man deadpans.

 

The shoppe is cute. It’s smaller than Lance’s, not made to have people eating inside. Why would they want to when the beach is 50 meters away. The shop is still crowded, Lance doesn’t seem to mind. Keith doesn’t like being pushed around, but he’s alright for it after Lance pulls him to the wall closest to the _pick up spot_ and pulls him close to his chest.

 

Lance had closed up shop so they could get popsicles and go down to the beach. Not _this_ beach. This one is covered with tourists and scammers. Just biking, or walking, a couple of minutes the beach clears up a decent amount. Enough to actually be able to see the water.

 

After getting there popsicles, as much to Keith’s point, watching them melt faster than they could eat them, they walked down to the most open section of the beach. Where as most tourists bring plenty of hotel  towels and buy enough sand toys for a lifetime, Keith and Lance, like many local, bring barely anything to the beach.

 

Lance usually wears swim trunks at shorts, because they are cheaper, and more efficient. Sadly today he wore pink pastel shorts that he had gotten from Keith as a gift. So no swimming for him today. Keith always carries a towel with him in his bike (because he swims a lot), so they lay that down and sit down on it, facing each other.

 

They talk for awhile, they talk  about how good the popsicles were and how they should have gotten more. They talk about all of Lance’s flowers in his shop, and how people keep trying to buy them. They talk about how pretty the water is. Or how pretty each other's eyes are.

 

Keith is actually a captive to how the way light refrackles in Lance’s eyes, he’s pretty sure that it was the first thing that he noticed about Lance they first met. Keith leans forward, wanting to just be _closer_ to the way they sparkle and shift in the light. His eyelashes are golden, and his irised filled with floating gold flakes. He didn’t understand “Eye’s worth a million dollars” before he met Lance, now he can’t imagine anyone’s eyes “worth” this much.

 

Keith wants to kiss him. He wants to so badly. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t. If he never kisses Lance he’ll never have that bittersweet feeling of content, always wishing for more.

 

And he likes the better end of bittersweet.

 

“You have the most beautiful eyes in the whole world,” keith says, Knowing full well that Lance won’t understand most of it. “Like every sunset in the blink of an eye. Like all the world's gems and precious metals.”

 

“ _ **I don’t understand**." _ Lance says, confused, but understanding the sentiment

 

“ ** _you’re beautiful_.** " Keith sighs.

 

Lance blushes, quickly looking away, “ _ **you said more than that**."_

 

“ _ **for my ears only**."_

 

Lance pouts.

 

They sit, facing each other, holding hands, for a couple of hours. _Hours_. Keith honestly thinks he could do that all afternoon and evening. He expected Lance to want to stay until sunset, but Keith didn’t care since Lance’s eyes were already more magnificent that any sunset.

 

“ _ **sunset**?" _ Keith asks.

 

“ _ **do you want to stay? We can go back to my store, or I have wine and beer in my house.** " _ Lance rambles for a minute. It takes Keith a second or two to really understand what he’s saying.

 

“Yeah, sí, t-that sounds like fun” Keith nods, blushing at the thought of spending even more time with Lance.

 

“ _ **It's cute when you go back to English when you're nervous.** " _ Lance shoves at Keith’s shoulder.

 

“Shut up,” keith blushes, picking up the towel and leading Lance hand-and-hand back to the shop.

 

~~~< The Basket Of A Cute Boy’s Bike >~~~

 

Lance still can’t believe he asked Keith if he wanted to go back to _his_ house. They’re friends but hadn’t ever really done anything outside of work hours. And Lance’s house was… _his house_. It’s a small apartment a fair distance from his shop, he usually wants but Keith has his shiny blue bike so he’s awkwardly sitting in the basket, blushing furiously.

 

Keith is going slow, probably too afraid of hurting Lance if they hit something. He enjoys the way the wind feels rushing across his skin, the way Keith’s hand sits protectively on his back. Lance smiles and laughs when they have to make a sudden turn and Keith quickly bribes the back of Lance’s shirt, holding it tightly. “Eres muy protector. Como mi propio caballero, y qué lugar tienes aquí!” _You are very protective. As my own gentleman, and what place you have here_. Lance laughs more, Keith just blushes, ears turning bright red.

 

“ _ **Turn here** ," _ Lance points down a small alleyway, Keith shakily turns.

 

After locking up the bakie, Lance leans Keith up the steep staircase to his third floor apartment. They talk and chat the whole way up. Before opening the door, Lance wraps his hand around Keith’s, something he wish he could do all day long. He imagines what life would be like if he could hold Keith’s hand all day. Having his constant warmth by his side. A constant companion.

 

He wouldn’t mind Keith has his constant companion.

 

Lance’s apartment is small. Only one room the services as everything. It’s a tight space, his bed taking up the majority of the space. The rest of the room is covered in bookshelves and a small kitchenette. Keith’s eyes sweep across the room. “¿baño?” 

 

“ _ **It’s down the hall, it’s public.** " _ Lance says pointing back to the front door. Keith nods, mouth forming ‘ _oh_ ’, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

Keith shifts his weight uncomfortably, back and forth on his heels. He’s in a new environment, of course he’s nervous.” _**can sit on the bed.** "_ Lance points to the bed in the corner, across from the kitchen. “ _ **I’ll get the wine.** " _Keith nods, walking quickly to sit down, he stares at his feet.

 

Lance doesn’t like the way the silence fills the room, but he doesn’t want to push Keith into talking when he’s uncomfortable, so he switches on the radio and sings along. He pours the glasses, he doesn’t have much wine to start, so the two glasses is all that was left. He hands one to Keith, who takes a sip, looking up from his _hiding place_. The blinds open with the pull of a cord, the area lighting up with the colors of the sunset.

 

They watch the sunset for as long as they can, drinking from their glasses occasionally. They aren’t looking to be drunk, Lance honestly hates being around drunk people, so after feeling the slightest buzz that could be considering tipsy, Lance puts down his drink.

 

Keith yawns in the most adorable way, his lips pout when he closes his  mouth. Eyes and nose scrunch up. Reaching forward, Lance pokes Keith’s nose, making a ‘ _boop’_ noise to accompany it. Keith’s eyes open, he makes a funny expression, almost disgust. But it’s obviously fake. Keith would never look at Lance with true disgust.

 

“Yo debería.... I should-” He yawns again, and Lance smiles fondly at him. “ _ **go home now.** "_

 

Lance pouts, he doesn’t want Keith to leave. “ _ **It's getting dark, you do not want to leave now.** " _ Lance takes Keith’s glass from him. “ _ **You can stay here tonight. I do not care.** " _Lance motions to the bed. “Please…?” he mutters.

 

“Okay.”

 

~~~< Nestled In A Pillow Fort >~~~

 

Keith is comfy, warm, and happy, tucked under Lance’s arm. They’re cuddling. _Cuddling_ . No matter how attracted to Lance he is, he never thought he would get _here_. And boy-oh-boy, now that he’s here? He never wants to stop. Lance, even at the odd angle he’s at, finds a way to be able to run his hands through Keith’s hair. He tries, and fails, to braid the shiny raven hair. Keith’s hums at the feeling of Lance’s nails scraping against his scalp.

 

Lance blows puffs of cold air onto Keith’s forehead, then replacing the cool feeling with his warm feeling. He’s probably grinning like an idiot. Keith is. Why wouldn’t Lance be too?

 

“ _ **how do you say, beautiful, in english?** " _ Lance whispers, threading his hands further into Keith’s fluffy hair.

 

“Beautiful?” Keith says, his voice is muffled from the way he’s pressed to Lance’s chest.

 

“Booty-ful?”

 

Keith snorts in the most unattractive way. “Beautiful, booty means… significa a tope.”

 

Lance laughs too. “ _ **I ruined the moment.** "_

 

“No, no, try again,” Keith stops laughing.

 

“Beautiful,” lance sighs, stroking Keith’s cheeks, pulling him of his chest. “Beautiful.” He pokes Keith’s nose. “Beautiful.” he hands slide back over Keith’s cheeks. “Beautiful.”

 

They should kiss. The defiantly could. They way they’re acting. How close they are. They _should_ kiss. Keith wants to. He wants to badly. He doesn’t though. Because the moment _is_ perfect. The moment is perfect without a kiss. Without _the_ kiss. Why ruin it.

 

Why try to add to the perfect moment. Even if it is a kiss.

 

It’s a little bittersweet. But it’s the better end of bittersweet.

 

They lie there for hours. It was already late when they lied down, so now is was beyond late. Lance’s hands are still in his hair. Keith finds himself speaking without even thinking about it.

 

“ _ **was today a date?** " _Keith’s face flushes.

 

“ _ **every day with you is a date for me.** " _ Lance smiles. “ _ **Do you want it to be a date?** "_

 

Keith nods furiously, because _jesus christ_ , He wants everyday to be like this with Lance. He wants to feel like this every moment of everyday. And he wants to _make_ Lance feel like this.

 

“That was cheesy,” he snorts.

 

“Cheese?” Lance asks, pulling Keith up into a bone crushing hug. “Queso?”

 

“ _ **English joke, doesn’t translate well.** " _Lance nods. Keith’s nose scrunches again.

 

“ _ **I like your face.** " _ Lance smiles, stroking Keith’s cheeks again. “ _ **it becomes silly and soft.** " _Keith flushes.

 

They lie there for a while more before falling asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

 

~~~< A Boardwalk By The Beach >~~~

 

Lance squeezes keith’s hand lightly. He that spend that entire morning, giggling, cuddling and and being what Lance could only call _fluffy_. They’re walking side by side, hand in hand, shoulder tightly pressed together. Lance loves being this close to Keith. His spicy scent, cold skin, floofy hair.

 

Keith’s hands are cold, they’re wrapped comfortably around Lance, his thumb rubbing circles. Something this small shouldn’t make Lance blush, but it does. Because it’s _keith._ Keith who he’s been crushing on for the last two years. Keith who is learning an entire language to be able to speak with Lance. Keith who just wants to show Lance how much he’s in love with him.

 

Lance knows. He know that Keith likes him. He’s known for a while. How could he not?

 

“ _ **what do you want to do today?** " _ Lance asks, putting his head on Keith’s shoulder. He shrugs. “ _ **I know a great place for breakfast**." _

 

“Okay,” Keith presses a kiss to Lance’s forehead. “ _ **want to go snorkeling with you too.** "_

 

“Okay,” Lance sighs. He likes that word. It always sounds cute when Keith says it.

 

Lance leads Keith around several street corners until they’re standing, still hand in hand, in front of a dessert shop. _Hunk’s Desserts_. Lance juts out his free hand, “ta-da!!”

 

Keith snorts, then buckles over in laughter. “ _ **that’s dessert!** "_

 

Lance pouts, hands on his waist. “ _ **I like sugar. I like sweet things, and let's say you're not being very sweet at the moment.** " _ Lance crosses his arms, tugging his hand from Keith’s.

 

“Aaah I’m sorry,” keith blushes at the insult. “ _ **it’s dessert, and it’s not open**."_

 

Lance makes a ‘pshh’ noise and walks up to the door, tugging hard on the handle. It’s locked. Keith gives him a curious look, something like, “I told you so.”

 

“Wait…” Lance says. “ _ **you wait**."_

 

A minute or so later, a large man, barely taller than Lance comes to the door, a sunflower is tucked in his hair. He unlocks the door and Lance sways his hips. “ ** _I know the owner_** _."_

 

 _“_ _ **Hello Lance, do you want cake? Who is this?** " _ Hunk looks to Keith, he waves. “Hi.” Lance knows how annoyed Keith gets when people assume he only speaks English.

 

“Hi,” Keith waves in response. “I’m Keith, lance’s friend, you must be Hunk then?”

 

“Haha, yeah,” Hunk laughs, opening the door more, he lets them in. Keith hurries in and grabs Lance’s hand again, Lance smiles.

 

“ _ **I told Keith that you have the best breakfast in the world! then you must show it for me. Free of charge, of course.** " _Lance leans in close to the case, there aren’t and cakes there yet, but lance commits to the pose.

 

“Uh… sure?” Hunk walks behind the counter, “Take a seat.”

 

Lance finds it interesting that Hunk is speaking to Keith, rather than him. Keith walks him to a table, pulling out his chair for Lance.

 

“ _ **What a gentleman!** " _ Lance giggles and takes his seat excitably. Keith sits directly across from him, their hands instantly find each other.

 

Lance has always loved the way the bakery is very open but also feels like it’s hugging him. Christmas lights hang from the ceiling. Usually there’s an entire display of cakes out, but it’s early in the day so there’s no need for Hunk to put out a display. The lighting is dim, easy on the eyes… kinda like Keith.

 

They chat for a while, mostly about how/amazing/absurd the idea of dessert for breakfast is. Hunk comes out with thin slices of sereal types of cakes and pastries.

 

“Here are some cakes, and a score card, because if you’re going to eat my food for free, you might as well rate it and help me out,” Hunk does a funny bow, Lance looks at keith for a translation.

 

“ _ **we can eat anything, but we have to complete these.** " _ Keith points to the cards.

 

Lance wants to understand so badly. His english is still in the works, though. “Hunk… uh… Likes-” He struggles. It’s harder in the morning too. “Likes you.”

 

“Oh, He does? _¿Lo hace?”_ Keith asks, he reaches for the chocolate cake, cutting off a piece and offers it to lance.

 

“...y-yes?” Writing is so much easier. He can _read_ mostly fine. “He… speak English.”

 

“I think he was just being nice. Él es agradable,” Keith pusses the fork closer to Lance’s moth, who bites down on it happily. “You’re english is getting better, eres inglés es mejor.”

 

Lance nods, picking out his favorite flavor and feeds it to Keith. “Practice, work… errr…” He scrunches his shoulders and looks to the side. He needs to practice more.

 

“You do know you don’t have to learn English for me, I love speaking Spanish with you,” Keith pulls Lance’s Hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Lance misses most the words he says, but nods anyways.

 

They eat the cake mostly in silence, occasionally feeding each other. It’s more attractive than Lance thought it would be. Lance doesn’t mind when they’re quit. It’s hard to think of things to say, none of this fake bullshit ‘ _when you’re with the right person every word you say is perfect’._ Love is messy. You don’t always know what to say.

 

“ _Do you still want to dive?"_ Keith finishes the last rating card.

 

“ _ **yes, my mask is in the store.** " _Lance stands up and walks over to pull the chair out for Keith, mimicking his earlier action.

 

“ _ **Okay, there's only one thing I should do first**." _ And keith kisses him.

 

Keith _kisses_ him.

 

Soft warm lips move against Lance. Eager and practiced. Keith cups Lance’s face in the palms of his hands, and Lance melts. His legs go weak and he finds himself falling forward slightly. Keith has to release Lance’s face to gather him up in his arms, so he doesn’t fall over. Lance’s hands awkwardly paw at Keith’s sides and hips, trying to find a steady place to put them.

 

Because Keith is Kissing _him_. And it makes him so weak

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Keith mumbles against Lance’s lips. Lance’s eyes refuse to open. Keith laughs. “heh- I can’t think of how to speak spanish now. That’s how mushy my brain is.”

 

“Mush~” Lance smiles. “Mush. Mush. Muuush.”

 

“Uuuhh… I actually can’t think of anything in Spanish… oh dear. You broke me.”

 

“Hunk! _**I need you to translate.** " _Lance shouts.

 

Hunk walks in, a bowl in hand, he’s whipping it quickly. “What? Qué?”

 

“ _ **Keith forgot all his Spanish, help him out.** "_

 

Hunk laughs, “Keith can you hear me?”

 

Keith nods. “Yeah, but I’m good now, eso fue genial,” Keith presses another kiss to Lance’s lips.

 

~~~< Floating In The Ocean >~~~

 

Keith rows the canoe, awkwardly, since lance refuses to let go of keith’s hand at any point. Lance is sitting on the bottom of the canoe, between Keith’s legs. He’s rowing along with him.

 

Lance finally removes his hands from Keith’s, immediately messing with a pile of flowers that Keith had left on the bottom of the canoe. They’re leftovers from the bouquet he made for Lance yesterday. Lance can probably tell. They’re yellow, with occasional orange streaks. Keith had tried finding some in blue, Lance’s favorite, but ran out of time and settled.

 

Lance strings together the flowers, forming a makeshift crown. Keith briefly wonders how and where he learned to do that, his thoughts are cut short when Lance turns, kneeling before him, and places it on Keith’s head.

 

“Booty-ful.”

 

They can’t float here forever, they know that. So feeling this close is almost bittersweet.

 

But it’s the better end of bittersweet.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, don't hate me. 
> 
> Please don't comment asking me to fix all the Spanish. I'm not a Spanish speak, and I wish i was. There's a lot on Spanish in this fic. and unless you're offering, as a spanish speaker, to change it for me, how do you expect me to? online translaters fuck things up, so no matter what someone will be angry. Please think before commenting, thank you
> 
> \+ edit + Hi, my name is Hiding. I'm a human being. I grew up on only one language and STRUGGLE to try to learn other ones ( I get by with French, time to time ). I have felt BULLIED into editing my personal fic so YOU ALL don't hate it. this is what happened. please don't comment rude shit anymore


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